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Down the road from Desert Center's main strip stood an abandoned school. Farm equipment was arranged on the grounds, as if on display.

The school had only one classroom and a large room with a stage covered by stacked chairs.

I imagine this might have been a teachers lounge.

And a little kitchen.

Several dilapidated pianos remained in the school.

A row of dead palm trees lay out front. The tops of those that remained standing had been chopped off.

I drove around to see what other abandoned places I could find in this amazing town, and happened upon a vast junkyard. Hundreds, maybe thousands of old cars blanketed the land, many from the 60s and some even older. I got out to take a closer look, waiting for vicious guard dogs to pierce the quiet day. But the only security measure was a flimsy barbed wire fence.

A big two-story house stood near where I'd parked. The second story had windows all the way around, probably so the owner could keep a watchful eye on the sprawling junkyard. Many of the windows were boarded up, which meant the place was most likely abandoned.

I stepped inside an open RV.

Several houses at the far end of the junkyard appeared to still be inhabited. Fearing the possibility of a stereotypical crazy shotgun wielding junkyard owner, I didn't venture too far out into the yard, lest I be spotted.

The large two-story house was begging to be explored, but I was a little nervous that I might encounter an angry squatter. I got my pepper spray ready and looked for an entry point. A busted out window led into a bedroom, where the disembodied head of a deer stared out from beneath the covers.

Instead of climbing through the bedroom window, I tried a door and was amazed to find it unlocked. I walked into a well-stocked kitchen.

The pantry shelves were full of decades-old products.

It seemed most of the possessions had been left behind when the house was vacated, and shockingly the place had not been disturbed by vandals.

The medicine cabinet in the bathroom contained products like ether and other strange tonics you can’t find in stores nowadays.

A junk room had shelves with sheets tacked up in front of them, just like my grandparents had in their basement. There were quite a few bits and bobs stored in repurposed containers. A board game box held an array of spools of thread. Oatmeal cans were full of tacks and nails. A stack of old magazines filled the corner of one shelf. Everything was covered in a layer of dust or fine dirt.

I concluded the place was most recently inhabited in the late 70s by an elderly woman. In the living room I found newspapers dated from 1976. And on the kitchen table was a book with an inscription from 1977.

She even had a loom in the living room.

The house must have been great in its heyday, spacious with a second story that overlooked the expansive junkyard and desert in every direction.

The second story contained some interesting artifacts.

Beer can with a pull tab

Ancient treasure?

Horrors

A pamphlet from 1936

I'm not sure what the purpose of this shuttered opening was. It led to a long fall down the stairwell.

After exploring the house, I drove past an old trailer park.

On the way out of Desert Center I stopped to explore another abandoned gas station several miles down the highway.

I am not crazy about graffiti unless it's artfully done, but I couldn't help but smile at the positive message painted on the old gas station.

The foundations of another building lay nearby.

I explored the land behind it, where I found a dumping ground of old tires, thousands of rusted cans, and broken glass. I could hardly believe how much trash was there.

I jumped in my car and set out to find the ghost town of Eagle Mountain.

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